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The weekend passed too quickly, as always, but this time I dreaded Monday way more. Eric hadn't contacted me even once, and I was honestly horrified that he had ended our friendship. On top of that, my neck and torso were still covered in hickeys, still prominent on my pale skin. Worst of all was that I didn't own any turtlenecks, nor any makeup, so nothing to cover them up with. In the end I choose to wear a large, white hoodie with the picture of a dragon on the back, and a fluffy, bright yellow scarf. Not the most fashionable solution, but it was all I had to work with. At least it was November so nobody would really look twice at my choice of clothing. If they didn't judge my sense of fashion that is.

Adding to my, already bad, weekend; my wrist was sprained. 

After the scalding shower I had when Eric had left, I noticed how my wrist had swollen up, way more than I had ever seen it before, and become dark purple. At first I had been reluctant of doing anything, but it had been the size of football for christ's sake! Ok, so maybe I'm being overdramatic, but you get the point. I had it bandaged as good as I could. Although doing that with only one hand is one hell of a task.

I kept to the walls as soon as I entered the school's hallway, a habit I kept from first year. I am mostly invisible; being fairly short and plain was the cause of that. Although I wasn't really unusually short; 5'10 is considered pretty normal, I think. Although most of the other guys in my school are all tall, at least taller than me. Anyway -getting off track- I was bullied, a lot, in first year of high school. I guess my gayness shone through a bit too much. Even if I was a close friend to Eric -and he made it obvious that if someone messed with me, they also messed with him- the bullies didn't care. 

They usually just waited until I was alone; when Eric was sick, with a new girlfriend, at American football practice... the list goes on. My back had almost always been bruised, some days more, some days less. Because of that, I got used to keeping to the walls. It had drastically gotten less as I befriended some guys from the year above me, but it had still happened from time to time.

Today, I was terrified of seeing any of them. Not that they attacked in the mornings, but still. If they got even a glimpse of my neck they would never stop bothering me. For some reason they seemed to believe that I was a virgin, rude much? They would probably start asking me things like: "who took your precious little virginity?", "how could a sissy like you get laid?", "you took it up the ass, am I right?", and so on. I didn't want to deal with that, at least not first thing on a Monday morning. Moreover I had actually gotten "laid" before Eric. Just a year ago, when I had my first boyfriend. 

A real dickward actually (not my words), but of course I didn't realise it until I was, figuratively, slapped in the face with it. Not that he had cheated or anything, but he had gotten very... aggressive. I had slept with him once, and I regret it. First of all: he was hella bad at it, didn't even know I also wanted to be touched. Secondly, he was always jealous and almost always yelled at me for hanging with Eric. And then, at last, he had hit me, twice. I guess my version of touching and his version of touching was too different. He had become mad when I broke up with him, gave me a black-eye. Which by the way wasn't what I had in mind when I wanted to be touched. Eric had wanted to beat him up, but I had obviously not told him that I was gay, neither that I had a boyfriend. He was left to believe that it was a mugger, not that it made much sense since he almost never left my side when I was outside or in the city, but he had let it slide with a scowl.

My locker was since long forgotten in the dust. I hadn't used it since half a year into first year. All of my books were being carried in my bag, or laid still in my room. I had become excellent at planning, always checking the schedule before going to school, taking the right books with me. The only downside was that my bag was always heavy, making it harder to run away.

I made a sharp turn to the left and to my pleasant surprise I didn't collide with my any of my bullies this morning, wait I shouldn't jinx it! I quickly tapped the wood of a nearby door; hoping that would do the trick.

Some minutes later I slid, unharmed, down into my seat in history class. Breathing out. Our teacher, Mr. Owen, had already begun writing on the whiteboard. I relaxed. I was good at history and because of that he usually cut me some slack, which meant that I could basically do my own thing. My tattered notepad was already on my desk, ready for more mistreatment. Yes, that's what happens when you expect me to take understandable notes; you get a notebook with pages that is filled with words in all fonts and sizes, almost completely hidden beneath stickers and doodles.

Mr. Owen rambled on about some "important" war, but I wasn't really paying attention. Soon enough my relatively clean page already started to fill with small and large doodles of Eric. Just as I began to realise how creepy I was -on my fifth doodle- the bell rang its shrill sound. I quickly gathered my things and ran out of the classroom.

And so the day went on. Well, at least until lunch. My other friends, "The Misfits", sat by a table in the far back of the cafeteria. Since I brought my own lunch I went straight to them. I pulled the sleeve down to cover my bandages, didn't need those questions right now. They were chatting about some new video game, I know what you're thinking: "video games isn't something worthy of the name misfits" "it's cool to play video games" "stupid reason to be a misfit". I get it, video games aren't that "geeky" anymore. The video game they're talking about however. Not as usual. They are known as "the misfits" since they like video games that revolve around small, colorful horses. You know what I mean. It wasn't only that either. They loved stuff that others found weird, disgusting or just plainly abnormal. I will not list everything for you, but let me tell you that it involves green monsters and memes. 

I wasn't particularly like them, but they were nice and funny. To hell with narrow minds you know?

Anyhow, I sat down and started to munch on my PJ sandwich. Yes, I like peanut butter and jelly. Don't judge me. They kept on talking, not minding me, and Sean, the one with black and pink hair -yes, the emo one- started to gesture dramatically with his arms. I hadn't paid attention to what had been said, so when an arm almost hit me in the face... I jumped back, not thinking my action through. Although how could I? Surprise didn't leave any space for rational thinking. I flew back. The bench accomplished making me even more miserable by getting stuck on my legs, so I very much ungracefully fell to the floor, legs still on the bench. 

The chattering at the table immediately stopped. Sean peeked over the bench, a sheepish smile covering his lips. I glared back at him.

"Are you okay?" Sean asked. I nodded, my face heating up as I gathered myself. When I finally got up on my seat again, noticing how all eyes were on me. Odd, who was seated in front of me, snorted at my appearance. Before you ask, his name wasn't really "Odd", that was short for Odysseus, and of course his name wasn't "Odysseus" either. He wanted to call us that since he felt that the hero was cool, it didn't even last a day. Odd stuck, however, he didn't like it at first. Although he eventually wanted us to call him that, because "Max" was too average. And well, he was far from "average". He was short, even more so than me, childlike, both to appearance and personality, had azure blue hair, glasses, and an unbelievingly bright red cap. At least the cap wasn't supporting an angry orange.

"What's so funny?" I asked, lifting one eyebrow at him. He smirked mischievously at me, looked down, then back up to me, still smirking. When I didn't react he did the exact same thing. I furrowed my eyebrows at him which earned me a roll of his eyes.

"Look down at yourself, you imbecile!" he groaned dramatically. I obliged, not before glaring intensely at him. 

I wish I had worn something other than white. My whole hoodie was covered in PJ smear, which made me wish I had listened to my mom all those years ago, when she tried to teach me not to use that much on my sandwich. I groaned and snatched a napkin from Sean's tray.

Napkin; not effective on jelly, nor on peanut butter. Suddenly another hand was on my chest. I was used to it so I barely even flinched. Barely. Glancing up, I came eye to eye with Manfred, the mom friend. His thick eyebrows were furrowed together and his brown hair was a complete mess, although his hands were steady and his green eyes clear.

"Sometimes I'm surprised that you're this fucking clumsy," he stated while wiping my shirt with a baby wipe. Oh, I forgot to mention, he was a sarcastic, foul-mouthed asshole when he wasn't acting like my mom. I huffed at him, but he only smiled back. "You know, I can do much, but not even I can save your shirt with only water and soap,"

I glanced back down at my shirt, he was right. The jelly was spread all over the dragon, peanut butter mixed into the mess. I groaned loudly, this was never coming off. "Don't worry you wuss, I have some extra clothes in my locker. Come on! I will help you," much can be said about Manfred, but he was not a complete asshole. An asshole, yes. A complete asshole? No. He actually wanted to help and even if he was mean most of the time, he genuinely cared. Which is why he was one of the few that I had come out to. He almost broke my ex's neck after the black-eye incident. 

I followed him down the halls until we came to his locker, 069. Yes, he loved his locker. Probably more than he should. The innuendos was perpetual. He opened it and took out his bag; an immense, green bag. Completely overfilled. The bathroom was empty so he pushed me into a stall, with the bag, and waited outside.

"There should be a shirt or something in it! You may have to dig a little," he reported with a chuckle, which made me groan. I didn't want to put his things on the floor, but of course the shirt had to be at the bottom of the bag. When I finally managed to fish it up, at least 20 other "mom"-things laid on the floor. "Are you ok in there? It's been like 7 minutes already."

"Uhm, yeah. Give me a second!" I replied and quickly stripped myself of the sticky shirt. Manfred's shirt was dark blue, with a big, red, white and blue shield on the front. I recognized it as his favorite superhero's shield. The shirt was big, way too big on me, but I didn't really have another choice. I picked up the scattered stuff and put them into the bag again. When I opened the door Manfred was leaning on the opposite wall, grinning like an idiot. Then he looked down and lifted his eyebrows slightly at the shirt.

"Well, that's not big at all," he remarked, voice dripping of sarcasm. "Y'know I probably have another, smaller shirt in my bag." I know, I wanted to reply. Although I didn't, because the 'smaller' shirt had a profound V-line that would have exposed my hickeys, even with the scarf. The hoodie, however, hung loose on my shoulders, the sleeves were too long and almost covered my hands, the shirt itself almost reached the middle of my thighs, but it was way better than the other shirt. 

I yelped in surprise as Manfred grabbed my shoulder roughly. He pulled the collar down, exposing my shoulder. For once I was almost scared of him. His eyes were glowing with acrimony, and his grip was firm.

"Who gave you all these bruises?" he asked harshly. I felt myself blush from head to toe in realization, making him stare blankly at me, all anger disappearing and in exchange he became disappointed. "How could you not tell me that you have a new boyfriend?" he questioned, hurt clear in his voice. I looked at my feet, pulling at the sleeves.

"I don't," I mumbled quietly while playing with my fingers. The look on his face was priceless, and I would have giggled if I hadn't been the cause of it.

"WHAT?!" he yelled, I felt the spit on my face and grimaced. "WHAT THE HELL LUCAS? SINCE WHEN DO YOU SLEEP AROUND?"

"I'm not sleeping around! It was after the party and I didn't really consent!" I tried to defend myself, somehow it seemed to make him angrier.

"Are you telling me, that you were raped?" he asked, eerily calm. I gulped.

"No... I... ehm... I mean... I don't know... I was kinda asleep?" I tried, but that only gave me a look of utter disbelief.

"So someone drugged you and then raped you? Lucas, you need to tell me what actually happened. I know that you don't drink, so you can't tell me you were drunk, but asleep? That's just not believable. If you woke up to something like that..." he took a deep breath. "not even sleep could make you unaware what's happening. Tell me what actually happened, okay?" he said, voice softer.

"It was Eric," I blurted out. The disbelief disappeared and became complete surprise and shock.

"Eric? You mean your very much straight best friend?" he asked me with his mouth hanging wide open. I nodded slowly. Manfred sunk down on a sink and dragged his hands over his face. "Are you telling me, that your straight best friend fucked you?" I cringed at the word "fuck", such a hideous way of saying intercourse.

"Well, I'm unsure..." Manfred opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, still picking on my fingers."He was completely wasted. I was tired, and I felt dizzy. So I took him home to my house. He wasn't even awake when I went to bed! I might as well have dreamt everything."

"Lucas. I am not stupid. Those hickeys didn't make themselves. Unless you're telling me that some kind of damn, horny demon snuck into your room and made them on you. And no, that is not a functional explanation. What do you mean that you felt dizzy? As in tiredly dizzy? Lucas, I think you have been drugged," my friend deadpanned. "What do you remember?" I looked at my feet, feeling ashamed of the whole situation. 

"Look, Manfred, I'm not completely sure what actually happened. As far as I know I wasn't penetrated, 'cos I would have felt that in the morning. The only thing I do know is that Eric is straighter than a ruler, and he must have been wasted when it happened," a sigh escaped my lips, I was sad, because I knew what I had said was true. There was no way that Eric would have done what he did while being sober.

"But then I must ask you, if you weren't drugged that is, why did you let him?" I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't believe that I had been drugged, it sounded so wrong. So I told him what to me sounded the most logical.

"I love him."

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